Dashes of Fear
by Insanity with Cheese
Summary: Then you would do this...for me?


"Remember...this will hurt me...more than it will hurt you."  
Harley didn't reply at all. All she could think about was that horrible, rusty knife, right at the edge of her neck. If she had moved a fraction of an inch, gone.  
One more dead body.  
One more victim.  
Although the doctors at Arkham told her countless times how Harley was a victim just by falling in love with his gut wrenching mind, Harley knew love wouldn't save her.

The Joker squeezed Harley's arms, bound behind her back to make doubly sure she wouldn't struggle and try to push away. The Joker chuckled, mocking her.  
"You look nervous, Harley...dare I say it..._terrified_..."  
She could _hear_ the disappointment in his high, Chicago accent, with a pinch of pepper and a bit of betrayal, too. Finally removing her eyes from that horrid knife, she glanced at the rusty, ancient mirror of their 'home'. She was so chilled, the harlequin never noticed that the most dangerous Arkham escapee had his white chin on her shoulder the whole time.  
"No, Mistah Jay..." Harley always admired her sudden burst of courage. "I'm not scared at all. I just...is this, well, ya know...safe?"  
The Joker blinked, a confused expression on his face.  
"_Real smart, Harl. Using the word 'safe' to The Joker..._" Harley's inner voice nagged. Not surprisingly, in Ivy's voice. "_Maybe you can ask him how many times a day he cries like a baby for Mommy and Daddy..._"

"So...you're saying that you're scared?" The Joker's smile faded a little, with the Clown Prince even biting his lip, slightly. A smiling Joker was one thing. A serious one was far more dangerous.  
The Joker started to caress the handle of his knife with his thumb, muttering out loud, "I wonder how many lives this knife has taken away...lost count last year...but it generally worked on all of 'em..."  
The Joker's smile was from ear to ear, rapidly moving his hand up to touch Harley's gold locks, the same hand that still had the dreaded knife.  
"And I don't think your pretty little head..." The Joker paused, gently kissing Harley's cheek, painted white to match his.  
"Would save you..._this_ time..."  
"Wait!"  
Harley screeched, trying oh, so hard to prevent tears of fear. "I mean...what if...what if I get an...infection or something? Y-you said you don't know how many...how many people you killed with that...blade...what if I..."  
"Shhhh..."  
The Ace of Knaves pressed the frigid flat side of the blade onto her lips, silencing Harley immediately.  
"Harley..."

For what seemed like an eternity rotting in hell, they just stood there, Harley defenseless and at the mercy of a zero-empathic clown, holding her knifepoint.  
"Harley...do you love me?"  
A bead of sweat trickled down from Harley's bangs.  
"Dammit, Harley! I have a goddamn _switchblade_ against you! Answer me!"  
"Mmm-hmm!" Was the only response Harley could do without the blade pressing against her flesh.  
"Do you wish to be with me, Harley?"  
"Mmm-hmm! Mmm-hmm!"  
The Joker licked his lips greedily, shivering in delight.  
"Do you want to die in this...this rathole? Left to bleed to death and have the cockroaches eat what's left of you?"  
"Mmm-hmmm! Mm! Mmm-mmm! Mmm-mmm"  
The Joker's notorious, chilling laugh erupted in the abandoned bathroom, echoing like it was the only sound in the world.  
"Then you would let me do this."

Without warning, The Joker snatched the knife away, snapping her towards his buggy, yet beautiful black eyes.  
"Now, Harley...are you ready?"  
Too excited on her reply, the psycho didn't even bother to remove the leafy green hair out of his eyes, no sanity ever entered them.  
Harley sighed deeply, the Hobinson's choice ahead of her. She knew what was the better deal, but...  
"Yes...I'm ready, puddin'."

The Clown Prince of Crime slammed Harley into the grimy wall, hoping that she would squirm a little as he did his deed.  
"Oh, dear! Is the poor Hawwey...cwing?"  
Harleen Quinzel could no longer hold her fear, but with her love around, it was never fully held to begin with.  
"Dun cwy, Hawwey," The Joker's nose twitched with passion and lust as he slid his precious knife into Harley's black, quivering lips.  
"Let's put a smile on that face."

Slowly, The Joker traced the knife up Harley's cheek, in no hurry whatsoever, savoring each and every one of Harley's screams and howls of agony like they were his own children.  
"Savor it, Harley! Feel pain's deliciousness! Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!"  
The world froze, sound stopped and time no longer existed. All Gotham City could hear was a scream of torture and terror, and the high pitched squeals of delight from the demon torturing the eternal victim of hell's ice cold kiss.

"Finished!" The Demon beamed, gingerly placing the beautiful and marvelous switchblade ever created back into its case. Grabbing one of the weeping girl's pony tails, he carried her to the mirror to view his masterpiece.  
"Marvelous, non?"  
Harley wailed upon her reflection, a permanent smile forever carved into her face from ear to ear. An eternal reminder that she was _his_ property.  
"That wasn't so hard, way it, Harleykins?" Joker cooed, giggling with pleasure at every tear and every wail.  
Harley couldn't look at him. All she could see...all she could smell...all she could taste...was her own blood in massive pools at her knees.  
"Come here." Gently, her love tickled her underneath her white chin, lifting up her face towards his.  
Two freaks in love.  
Harley stopped crying, but they both knew it wouldn't be long until she started again.  
With a cruel smile, The Joker whispered, "Ya wanna know how I got these scars?"


End file.
